Alone
by allons-y573
Summary: "You were wrong. You were both wrong. It wasn't supposed to be this way," A very angsty one-shot post-Journey's End. Warning: character deaths and non-HEA. Rated T for mature themes.


**A/N... Although I am not new to fanfiction (I have posted on other archives), I am new to writing Doctor Who. And since I am American, please forgive any britpicking errors that follow. Yes, this is angsty. As much as I love TenToo, I think they both got a raw deal. This was a 'whoa is me' night after watching Journey's End, and this is what came out as I wrote. I would like to thank my marvelous beta, Meladara, for making this post-worthy.**

**As always, anything you recognise belongs to the BBC. I only wished I owned Doctor Who..._sigh._**

* * *

_Peter Alan Tyler_

_15 September 1954- 2 July 2047_

_In death we are reunited_

Rose Tyler-Smith stifled a sob as she stroked the recently-engraved name on the tombstone. Although Pete, at least _this_ Pete, wasn't technically her father, he was a dad to her in every way that mattered. He had loved her during the roughest period of time in her life—when she lost The Doctor—and had been there for her ever since. Raising her younger brother Tony, along with being a grandfather to her own children for the past forty years, he had been a constant in their lives. But after Jackie died, he just couldn't go on. Although his wife had fiercely battled cancer the last two years of her life, she had remained strong until she had passed six months ago. Pete's death, while sudden, was not surprising according to the doctors. After all, he was 93 years old. Rose, however, was pretty sure he died of a broken heart.

She turned her gaze to the other side of the stone and silently wept as she read over the name.

_Jacqueline Andrea Suzette Tyler_

_1 February 1967- 9 January 2047_

_Faithful wife_

_Mum. _Had it really been six months since she had passed? Rose tried not to think about how ill her mum had been near the end, and instead, had focused on all of the positive things she could remember.

After dropping out of school to run off with Jimmy, her mum could have chastised her for such a huge mistake, but instead welcomed her back with open arms. And despite the first-hand evidence that her parents' marriage had not nearly been as happy as Jackie had portrayed, she had never said an ill word to Rose about Pete. Not that Jackie didn't have a temper. She did. Rose showed just the faintest hint of a smile as she thought about Jackie's famous slaps. Jimmy had been on the receiving end of several, and Mickey had as well. Even The Doctor, well _both_ of her Doctors, had received occasional Jackie Tyler slaps. Rose's smile widened as she thought about how far her mum's relationship with The Doctor had come. From fiercely protective of Rose and critical of him, to loving him like a son; Jackie had always had Rose's best interests in mind.

Rose had just traced the outline of Jackie's name when she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder.

"Rose, it's time to go."

She turned towards him, wiping a tear from her eye as she spoke. "John, please. Just five more minutes. I need to say goodbye. Please?"

"Rose, if the press sees you, you know—"

"John," she interrupted, pausing as she lowered her voice to a whisper, "_Doctor_, please. I didn't even get to go to the funerals. I understand why, but I just want five more minutes. I need closure."

As John walked back to Tony and their now-grown children back towards the car, Rose turned back to the grave marker once again. She reminisced over all of the old times, both good and bad, before standing up once again.

"I love you both," she whispered as she walked away from the graves.

-ooOOoo-

_Anthony Peter Tyler_

_5 December 2009- 7 August 2051_

_Beloved son_

Running her hands over the indentations in the black marble, Rose couldn't help but think that it was just too soon. Wasn't it only yesterday that she had to say goodbye to her parents, but now she was having to say bye to Tony as well. Parents weren't supposed to outlive their children, and although Tony was her brother and not her son, she had been old enough when he was born to be almost like a second mother to him. She had been in the hospital room with Jackie when he was born, and she had been the third person to ever hold him, following Jackie and Pete. From scraped knees at football to driving lessons, she had been there for it all. She had expected to be there for his children and grandchildren, but... She sobbed as she realised that would never happen.

Tony was in the prime of his life—only 42—when the automobile accident claimed his life. He had fought valiantly in the hospital, getting better and stronger after each passing day, only to then succumb to a secondary infection. And he still hadn't lived his life, _really_ lived his life, yet. He had always been a playboy, the rich and available Vitex heir, and hadn't settled down. He had no wife or kids, and now he never would have them.

"It's getting dark, Rose. We need to go before anyone spots us. Donna has already said that the press has been coming here often. They are still wanting a glimpse of the _reclusive_ Rose Tyler-Smith."

A hoarse sounding laugh erupted from her, and she quickly covered her mouth to muffle the sound. "I'm sure they'd have the story of their life if they got their photos tonight. I'm sure Torchwood or the police would have quite the fun turning me into their guinea pig. No thanks," she mumbled as she rose from her kneeling position.

"Take care of mum and Pete," she said quietly as she walked towards the car.

-ooOOoo-

_John Noble Smith_

_1 January 1971- 15 October 2069_

_Father_

Rose always knew that she would outlive him. Given the sixteen year age difference, or at least the _appearance_ of that age gap, she had always thought she would outlive him by several years. She gently stroked the stone and shook her head in anger. The words of The Doctor—_her_ Doctor—haunt her once again.

"_I look like him; I think like him, same memories, same thoughts, same everything. Except I've only got one heart." John looked her in the eyes as he spoke to her._

_Rose replied cautiously, "Which means?"_

"_I'm part human. Specifically, the aging part. I'll grow old and never regenerate. I've only got one life... Rose Tyler. I could spend it with you. If you want."_

"_You'll grow—grow old—at the same time as me?" Rose blurted out, the shock evident on her face._

"_Together," he replied._

-ooOOoo-

"You were wrong. You were both wrong. It wasn't supposed to be this way," she sobbed as she stared at the large family gravestone. The top of the stone was engraved with the name 'Smith', and she numbly stared at the names on the stone. The two center names she had stared at for the past thirty years, although she knew one of the spots—although it had a name on it—did not contain a body. Torchwood had taken care of that. But the last two names... those names caused her the most intense feelings of regret... and anger.

_Donna Jacqueline Smith_

_15 March 2011- 9 August 2097 _

_Daughter_

_Jack Wilfred Smith_

_3 May 2014- 29 September 2099_

_Son_

Rose looked at her hands as she ran her index finger over the names of her children. She stared at her hand—her youthful, non-aged, hand—and fought internally with feelings of anger, sadness, and betrayal. Anger that she had outlived her children, sadness that she was the last of her family, and betrayal at the original Doctor for being so wrong. _How could he not know?_

Thinking back, it should have been obvious before she ever crossed the void to the parallel universe the first time. She healed quickly, even after the concussions she received on several of their trips, there would be no sign of them just a few days later. Lacerations would heal by the next morning.

By the time she had Donna, an emergency caesarian section that left no scar within a week, she and John had headed to Torchwood for tests. Although the tests were somewhat inconclusive, they did show that her DNA had mutated. Torchwood couldn't explain the mutations, but John knew instantly. Even though his ninth self had tried to remove all traces of the vortex from her body, apparently it was in her long enough to change her... permanently.

Hoping that she would only outlive John by a few years, it quickly became apparent that wouldn't be the case. By John's 50th birthday, Rose still only appeared to be 25. Shortly after that, Torchwood had come up with a story about her being ill, and that began her life as living as a recluse. Missing milestones in her children's lives had been tortuous, but being seen would have been disastrous.

She stopped her musing and pulled her scarf tighter around her head. One tendril of her now chestnut colored hair had escaped, and she tucked it neatly back in. Tomorrow would be the start of her new life. A life without hiding. A life full of loneliness.

Climbing into her car, she angled the mirror towards herself. Pulling off the scarf, Rose stared at the unfamiliar face looking back at her. Dark brown hair replaced blond, and unfamiliar blue eyes stared back at her. Rose Tyler-Smith was no more. Officially, Rose Tyler-Smith had died twenty-five years ago in a Zeppelin crash. A crash so severe that no body was ever found. Torchwood had always been excellent at covering their tracks.

Tomorrow, Suzette Peters would be on a Trans-Atlantic zeppelin to America.

Alone.


End file.
